


you get to thinkin' fate's got different plans

by Yevynaea



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Deities, Fix-It, Gen, Guilt, John Lives but not immediately and not without Conditions, Judgement, Light Angst, One Shot, Post-Canon, Post-Episode: e067-069 Story and Song Parts 1-3, Self-Reflection, Thats how u know u fucked up, Trials, When three different deities have to decide ur fate, john has time to think
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-10
Updated: 2018-01-10
Packaged: 2019-03-03 01:38:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13330746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yevynaea/pseuds/Yevynaea
Summary: Before him are three figures, tall and grave and graceful. John recognizes them as gods, because what else could they be? This is a trial, he realizes quickly, and these are his judges.





	you get to thinkin' fate's got different plans

When John regains awareness, he's disoriented, he's glowing and translucent, and he's trapped in a cage of yarn and roots and bone. Not  _ great _ turns of events, but he thinks maybe it's better than being completely gone and dead-- wait, scratch that. Before him are three figures, tall and grave and graceful. He recognizes them as gods, because what else could they be? This is a trial, he realizes quickly, and these are his judges.

“I presume we do not need to read you a list of your crimes,” says the goddess in the middle, a woman with oil-shine raven feathers sprouting from her skin.

John, who is still very disoriented, and also a ghost, takes a moment to find his voice.

“No,” he says, pushing down his fear and guilt.

“Good,” the goddess says. “Now: we will ask, and you will answer in truth.”

“Yes?” John says, more confused. The goddess sighs, clearly irritated, while at her sides the other two deities snicker like schoolchildren.

“Respond properly,” she chides.

“Echo,” the second goddess hints.

“You will ask, and I will answer in truth,” John echoes obediently. Immediately, loops of thin silver yarn appear around his ghostly wrists, binding him to his word, to the truth. He thinks briefly of Merle.

“What do you deserve, in Death?” the raven goddess inquires.

“Punishment,” John answers simply.

“For which of your crimes?” asks the second goddess, her long silver-white hair falling in waves around her. She has a shawl around her shoulders, knitted in more colors than could exist in any Material Plane.

“All of them,” John admits.

“If you could undo all your crimes, would you?” asks the third god, a faun, shorter than the two women. Pan, maybe, John recognizes.

“Y--” John stops, tries to think of such a life. Without the purpose he gained as the Hunger. Without the new clarity he was gifted by Merle. Without all those years, without all that power, without his only friend. Ashamed, he looks down at the silver binding his hands. “I don't know.”

“Hmm,” says the silver goddess, sounding more  _ fascinated _ than the disappointment or anger that John kind of expected.

“What do you feel, for the beings, planes, and lives consumed or destroyed by you and your Hunger?” asks the raven goddess.

“Guilt, regret, pain… apology.” he doesn't know how to articulate it any better than those few words. The silver goddess nods. The raven goddess notices, and shakes her head in response. They both look at the faun, who shrugs.

“Would you let such victims decide your fate?” he asks John, who flinches.

“I deserve whatever punishment you or anyone can decide for me,” he says. He wasn't scared of death just a while ago, sitting on that false beach with Merle. Now he's strongly rethinking his previous calm.

“You are not what I expected, from a being of such crimes,” the raven goddess admits, and John glances up at her, surprised.

“I'm not-- I'm tired,” he replies. “Merle tried to… the Hunger was not in my control, at the end. Quite the opposite, actually. Merle tried to save me, but, I was tired. I was ready.”

“To die,” the faun says, asking for confirmation. John nods once.

“To cease existing, fade away and escape your guilt,” says the raven goddess, accusing. John flinches again.

“Maybe,” he admits.

“We will deliberate on your Fate,” says the silver goddess, a small smile pulling at her lips. John doesn't see what's funny. She waves one hand in his direction, and around him the cage grows more solid, until he is completely alone inside, no light or sound reaching him.

He tries not to think about what will happen to him now. He fails. Dropping slowly to his knees, John waits, full of dread, for whatever consensus the deities reach.

 

And he waits.

 

And he waits.

 

Eventually, he realizes he has no way of telling how much time is going by; hours, days, weeks? He doesn't tire or--  _ ha _ \-- hunger. He's alone in the dark with his thoughts, his guilt, his memories, his fear. At some point, he looks down at the yarn still around his wrists, the only light in his prison, and again he thinks of Merle. He thinks of that beach. He thinks of their chats, their games, all the times he had killed Merle, and… all the times Merle stubbornly came back to try again.

 

John isn't even aware of the cage reverting until it's  _ opening,  _ and the deities are back and the silver goddess is scooping him up into her hands. He fails to hold back a shout of fear and surprise. She raises him to her face and makes intense eye contact, and John hasn't had a heartbeat for a  _ very  _ long time but he thinks that, if he did now, it would possibly be failing, because all he feels is paralyzing terror, an emotion that he is wholly unused to.

“Your sentence is to be Bound in Fate, for the rest of your life, to a soul you have wronged severely,” the silver goddess says.

“The rest of--” John starts to echo, confused, but he's interrupted.

“You aren't properly dead yet,” says the raven goddess, sounding deeply annoyed by this fact. “The Hunger had all its bonds severed, and you ended up trapped, between life and death, where I have Kept you until now. When you  _ do  _ die, a fitting afterlife will be decided upon. Until then…”

“The soul you will be bound to will serve as your guide and warden. The decider of your fate.” the faun smiles. “If you wish to atone, live a better life, this is your one and final chance.”

John opens his mouth, then closes it again, too shocked and perplexed to even offer thanks. He has to be misunderstanding something here, he thinks; they can't just be letting him  _ go _ .

“We're giving you a mortal life, to do with what you wish. Misuse this gift, and the consequences will be  _ great _ ,” the raven goddess promises, baring bloodied, sharpened teeth in a terrifying facsimile of a grin.

John hurriedly nods his understanding. They're  _ letting him go _ .

“Thank you,” he finally gets out. Then a question comes to him. “How-- how long have I been…” he stops before saying  _ dead _ .

“Just over one year, in the Material Plane,” the silver goddess answers helpfully. “Though most of that you spent…  _ reforming _ . We've been deliberating roughly a month.”

“Oh.” he expected worse, actually.

“Do you accept, without question, your Fate?” asks the silver goddess.

“Yes,” John answers.

“Do you accept, without malice, your Life?” asks the faun.

“Yes,” John says easily.

“And do you accept, without defiance, the certainty and uncertainties of your Death?” asks the raven goddess.

“Yes.”

“Good,” says the silver goddess, and she kisses him on the forehead, and he's gone.

 

In Istus’ hands, John’s spectral form winks out, disappearing to the Material Plane and the new chance at existence they've given him there.

“I sincerely hope we didn't just do something  _ very _ stupid,” the Raven Queen says.

“Time will tell,” Istus replies lightly, already getting back to her knitting. It's coming along nicely.

“I wouldn't worry too much,” Pan adds, smiling. “Merle will keep an eye on him.”


End file.
